At the newly renovated subway station at Hornstull, they’ve made one of the pillars into a piece of art.
It’s a tree with human features. It makes me think of Catherynne M. Valente‘s The habitation of the blessed and The folded world. Her living trees. I wonder when the last book about Prester John is coming. I feel I need some of her magic.
There is something about it, the tree at Hornstull. It aches in me. I dream dreams about revelations and wake up feeling empty. I need something.
This thesis is destroying my life and slowly relieving me of my sanity.
Katja Malmborg 